‘Most memorable drives are ones with a mission, big or small’

The alarm finally went off, but I had been awake for an hour trying to figure out why I was so keen to get at the day.

I had fuelled the Toyota Tacoma TRD Pro loaner the night before and it was neatly backed into the driveway.

The decks were clear in the office for the day and the weather forecast called for just a few flurries.

The impending road trip that revved me up wasn’t horsing the Tacoma across a Mongolian track or trying out its big black Desert Air Intake snorkel through the Atacama or Sahara Deserts.

There would be no dicey borders to cross, cantankerous passengers to deal with or awkward loads to strap down and tend to either.

No, it was just a 275-kilometre drive from Halifax to Moncton to drop off the TRD Pro then a flight back home to Halifax.

So what is it that still thrills me, after 52 years of driving, almost every time I strap into a vehicle?

The escape of getting out on the road for starters. Of course, there are thousands of variables that come into play when driving anywhere and in five decades of motoring in more than 80 countries, scope and mission have defined hundreds of unique road trips.

Most memorable drives are ones with a mission, big or small. When friends ask why I have a dentist 300 kilometres away, I tell them it’s because I’m lucky enough to be able to write off Dentist Day.

With a home office and clients a half continent away, winter storms never grant a surprise day off, so Dentist Day is like a snow day without the driveway to shovel.

Then there is the vehicle itself, because a road trip can’t exist without something to do it in.

I’ve had the opportunity to drive vehicles of all shapes and sizes over the years, from dump trucks to sports cars, end-of-the-line winter drift jumpers to top-of-the-line luxo-sedans.

They all have their strong points when it comes to escaping down the road.

Some of the vehicles in which I’ve felt most comfortable are base units like the 1991 Pontiac Firefly we’ve owned since new.

There are times, although not often, when listening to its whimpering three-cylinder power plant while leaning through a corner can be as satisfying as the precise throaty retort of a Porsche 911.

Now and then a road trip’s purpose drops out of the blue. An example happened one mid-November morning of my second year of university when the Ford dealership in Moncton called about a repossessed 1965 Mustang convertible that had to be returned to the stung finance company’s office in Toronto.

I was dating a “freshette” from the Toronto area and a 1,900-kilometre road trip seemed a prime opportunity for romance and discovery.

It would be a chance to meet her parents and a spiffy Mustang convertible would obviously put to rest any apprehension they might have about their daughter dragging a Maritimer home.

Of course, the Mustang turned out to be a rusty beater with an unserviceable heater that dropped a muffler on the trip making it sound like a NASCAR racer.

Besides the mission and the vehicle, the people along the way round out the primary ingredients of a road trip, like those who work on road maintenance crews and at fuel stations and in hotels and restaurants along the road.

I used to pick up hitchhikers, but that habit has gone the way of unleaded fuel.

There really is nothing like a road trip to get to know someone and many long and lasting friendships have been forged on treks, long and short, all over the world.

Last week’s drive to Moncton was, as usual, a cruise-control exercise. The Tacoma TRD Pro surprised me with its civilized highway manners and level of comfort although I’m sure its Desert Air Intake snorkel will have tougher days to deal with as the truck’s life unfolds.

While waiting at the Moncton airport for the flight back to Halifax, road trip friends and acquaintances were filing through my mind when my mobile phone rang.

It was Ron Fine, a television producer I had met in the early 1990s while working on a film shoot of a comparison between a Hummer H1 and a top-of-the-line Range Rover. We became friends after that but had not seen each other for 24 years.

Ron was in Halifax with his partner Tracey Clark but leaving that evening, so after landing in Halifax, Lisa and I picked them up downtown.

The road trip still had life as we headed back to the airport to drop them for their flight. We laughed, carried on and reconnected.

It had been a simple day on the road. The Toyota TRD Pro strutted its stuff, I made all my meetings and rendezvous on time then had some laughs with a ghost from the past. A yummy to-go tuna sandwich from an Irving Big Stop was my feast and I even got to fly in one of my favourite airplanes, a Beechcraft 1900D.

It’s no wonder I woke up early that morning with a mild case of road fever.